Of Monsters and Men
by MoparGirl1
Summary: Sheppard and the team travel to a recently culled planet. They had only been there weeks before and it was thriving. They encounter a man who isn't nearly as helpless as he first appears. It quickly becomes apparent that he has an agenda and isn't working alone. Five months later, on Cambria, they come across one of the mans nameless companions again. Slow burn.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable, only my OCS and their story.**

**A/N: to any who are curious, I do have every intention of posting the last chapter of my Daniel story soon. I got sucked into another project, but I needed to get this out of my head before I bounced back to Daniel. Some stories just have to be told, haha!**

* * *

**Prologue**

**When the violence causes silence**

* * *

Evie Kenway ran. Slapping a hand down on a large pipe, she vaulted over it, heart pounding. She followed Jax across the rooftop, dark blue hood covering her chocolate braids, pebbles crunching under her feet with her bow in hand. They preferred to stay in the shadow as much as possible. A shadow could be many things. In this case, it was outside of your prey's perception. Like many beasts, a wraith's first instinct was blood lust, and that meant you could hunt it. The light of the deserted planet's twin suns turned the sky to their left ablaze with hues of red-gold, orange, fuchsia, and deep purple. Empty buildings with darkened broken windows rose against it like misshapen teeth.

Jax leaped over the gap between one roof and the next without missing a step. He hit the opposite roof, still moving. Evie slid her bow over her head and across her chest and followed suit when her feet hit the next rooftop; she rolled with the inertia. The gravel on the roof bit into her legs through her tight grey pants and the back of her clothes as she rolled. She regained her footing seconds later. She stayed just behind Jax as he ran, sharp green eyes on the scene below. The jagged scar that went from her right temple and sharply down her face was a constant reminder of how quickly things could go wrong. In the alley below, their prey screamed, signaling to the other wraith he was on the hunt. In front of the pale creature, Ragnar ran, leading the demon to the trap. Sure-footed and agile, the long end of his braided mohawk slapped against his black tunic as he ran. In the last five years, he had become adept at being the carrot while the rest of them were the stick.

As expected, another wraith screamed in answer, raising the fine hairs along Evie's spine. A twin call sounded from the same direction.

On the buildings on the other side of the alley, others like her, and Jax followed her brother and the wraith, four silent silhouettes against the evening sky. She knew every face as well as her own. Kin born of blood and destruction, they were family bonded by their inheritance of death and loss. They were ever watchful. Ever alert. Doubly so tonight. There was little time to spare thought to the other people who trailed along at a distance behind them or who they were.

Despite the exhilaration and thrill of the hunt, this was no game they played. Evie's gaze darted to the open alleyway a few feet ahead of her brother, expecting to see the other wraith at any moment. She ran faster to catch up with Jax's tall frame. The other wraith calls had come from that direction. She met Jax's blue gaze, with a nod as she passed him while trying to get close enough to her brother so she could eliminate any potential threat and remain unobserved. Jax as always stayed with Ragnar. Jax was the faster runner and the better moving shot with a bow and Ragnar's right hand.

Without Evie realizing it, her hand flexed inside her right gauntlet, inciting a soft hum from the device within. Her fingers curled into a fist as she brought her arm up. The telltale red of the charging energy weapon glowed along the split in the leather. She aimed for the opening of the alleyway, ready to fire at anything that moved.

Ragnar passed the end of the alley, without issue. On the roof across from her, Luke signaled, then pointed toward the alley below.

Evie fell back and turned, moving toward the edge of the building. Her attention remained on the strangers below. She stepped up onto the ledge, and pulled her bow over her head. She nocked the arrow and fired on the exhale.

The arrow landed roughly a foot in front of their audience, just as one of the other wraiths screamed.

**XxX**

"Take cover, kids," John Sheppard said. The one that fired the shot had watched them before, while their companions paid them very little more than a glance. John Sheppard knew a warning shot when he saw one, however.

They had initially followed to help the man the wraith was chasing. Ronon pulled his pistol to shoot when John saw the first of the ones on the roof. Then there were more running past them, and the female who fired the shot had paused, looking at them. It was easy to tell she was trying to decide if they were friend or foe, then she was off running again.

John couldn't say he wasn't curious; whoever these people were, they were good at what they did. Or to coin the phrase, it was pretty obvious this was not their first rodeo, whoever they were.

So, they followed, careful to maintain distance.

Up ahead, a wraith ran from the adjoining alley. A second followed closely on his heels.

Everything happened so quickly from there. John wasn't sure, but he thought the runner slid through a doorway at the end of the alley, that was immediately slammed shut right after. Then the others were there with their bows out. Several arrows rained down before there was a pause. One wraith fell from a shot to the head.

Another screamed. He pulled an arrow from his chest, just in time for John to see the flashing red light of an armed weapon attached to it right before it exploded.

Five Months Later

Evie Kenway wandered along the vendor's stalls, of a busy market square; her attention skimming over the various wares. It had been weeks since she had seen any living civilization, and intended to enjoy this outing. It was time for the annual harvest festival on Cambria, and Evie intended to make the most of it. The society wasn't nearly as advanced as her own once was. When evening came, they would not only light bonfires, but they would illuminate windows and homes with candles. They would also light streetlamps along the cobbled roads. Once upon a time, Evie's home world was marked with electric lights, great universities, and an ever-growing civilization.

In other ways, they weren't so dissimilar; however, this night would be marked with music, drink and merry making.

The fingers of her right hand continually flexed and loosened. Her hand and wrist felt naked without her ever-present gauntlet. On the rare occasion she wasn't wearing it, it felt as though she was missing a part of herself. Ragnar had traded their father's watch for it on one of the first worlds they went to after leaving Nahear.

Evie protested trading something that was so precious to their father, but remembered Ragnar saying, "All their father would want now was to know Evie could protect herself."

Ragnar was the one who taught her how to use it.

Ragnar would also be unimpressed if he knew she had tucked it inside the pack she wore on her back. She also collapsed her bow down and placed it inside her pack, as well. Despite having those items tucked away, Evie was not completely stupid, as Ragnar might imply. She was by no means unarmed. She still wore a small energy pistol concealed under her coat and had a knife tucked inside her boot.

But then again, that would not matter to Ragnar. He was rarely impressed. Especially not when Evie made announcements like how she planned to take a trip and by herself. She and her safety were only eclipsed by one other. It was that same other that tempered her brother's nature and convinced him Evie didn't need Jax or one of the others tagging along for her own good. Evie did truly understand why he preferred to keep her close. It was the same thing that brought them all together; they needed to hold onto what they could of who they once were. Still, sometimes, Evie needed to see something besides annihilated planets, constant devastation and the dirt and rough places they chose to lay their heads. As silly as it sounded, sometimes she just wanted to pretend or forget, to bathe and to sleep in a real bed. Sighing heavily, Evie reached up and worked an errant hair back into the thick braid wrapped around the right side of her head. She ran a hand down the identical one on the other side of her head when she finished.

Evie stopped, eyeing several bolts of fine material, and skimmed her fingers over them. She admired the softness and color of the pale green shot through with silver threads. Once, she would have bought such things without thought. Though she rarely chose to wear dresses, like some from her world, she would have purchased it anyway. Evie's style tended more toward the practical, as she originally intended to follow in her father's footsteps by becoming a battlefield surgeon as he had once been. If anything at the very least, his assistant. She had spent most of her time in trousers and suspenders with rolled-up shirt sleeves or a white apothecary's coat.

She would still have bought the fine material and hid it away in her secret box of somedays and maybes, however. How far away that all seemed, now.

Evie jostled the pack she carried, wrapping her hand around the strap as she adjusted its seat. She smiled at the young women awaited her request. "Give me eight lengths, please," Evie said, and pulled her pack off her shoulder. She may have no use for such pretty things these days, but Ragnar's wife would love this. Amara would make something beautiful for herself.

Evie waited patiently as the girl cut and wrapped her purchase. Her stomach growled loudly as the breeze carried the scent of roasting game and meat pie to her nose. She handed the girl her coins and tucked the parcel inside her pack.

**XxX**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. The Wrong Foot

**A/N: Hey ya'll sorry it took me so long to update. I went on a three thousand mile road trip and have been busy ever since! Merry Christmas! Thank you all for the faves, follows, and reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ocs and their** **stories**.

* * *

**Chapter One**

**The Wrong Foot**

* * *

Arms folded over his chest, Ronon Dex stayed back, his tall frame hidden beside a vendor's stall. The late fall sun warmed his head of dark dreadlocks and bare shoulders as he observed her through the crowd. She knelt, her thick dark braids falling over her stooped shoulders as she placed a parcel in her pack. She stood, slung it over her shoulder again, and brushed her braids back. At first, she had just been one in the sea of festival-goers moving and ebbing in the busy market square. Rows of vendors' stalls and carts lined the cobblestone street and the market green. Their proprietors sold almost everything from the material Ronon just saw the girl buy to tapestries and other household goods to toys, weapons, and even dried herbs. Children laughed and played the games set up for their amusement. Game animals roasting on spits, and in brick ovens filled the air with the smell of roasting meat filled the air.

His quarry easily blended in. She didn't carry any visible weapons, though he had spotted the signs of the one strapped to her thigh under her coattails. The protective grip she kept on the strap of her bag made him think she had other weapons hidden within. Weapons she maybe wasn't so used to not carrying more readily. Judging by her posture, she was antsy about them being out of easy reach.

She was also alone, as far as he had observed. At a glance, there wasn't anything extraordinary about her. Ronon doubted he would have noticed her if it wasn't for his leaning against the side of a building as he waited for Sheppard to finish up the business that had brought them here.

They hadn't been close that evening all those months ago, but she had paused to watch them two or three times. The memory of her and the guy she followed across the rooftop that night filled Ronon's head. Sheppard and Teyla and him were going to the aid of the man the Wraith was chasing. Ronon was about to shoot the Wraith.

"Wait!" Sheppard said.

Ronon looked over at his friend, uncertain why the smaller man would tell him to wait.

John met Ronon's eyes briefly, then lifted them and his chin toward the rooftop. She was standing there, staring down at them curiously; her head cocked to the side. The bright red trim on her coat stood out starkly despite the failing light.

The second time she paused was to fire a warning shot, but the last time, she had lingered after she and the others killed the Wraith. The sky was ablaze with the setting sun, and long shadows danced across the ground, but there was enough light to highlight her dark hair, pale face, and the jagged scar that cut across her features. A sharp whistle pierced the air, and she was gone. She and her companions had vanished through the gate at the city's center before Ronon, and the others reached it. It was her clothing that had sparked the memory today, though. The dark knee-length coat with slits up the side and back, a wide collar, hood, and bright red piping was unmistakable.

Her coat was well made, and he would say expertly tailored to fit her as it hugged her small frame snuggly. The style was unique, though he thought he had seen it before. Ronon still wasn't sure where he recognized it from, however. It was most likely common on one of the planets where Sateda once traded.

Now he could see the leather boots she wore spoke of a very different past, as well. While they were scuffed and worn, there was no mistaking the quality or that they had been made for her as well. For a second, Ronon found himself wondering who she once was. He questioned that before or inasmuch as he did about who she and her companions were. At this moment, he asked it simply because her clothing told its own story.

Ronon started moving, following her once more as she made her way to another vendor stall. When he had radioed the others to tell them who he found, Sheppard told him to stay with her until they could catch up. So he did.

Sheppard had asked before if Ronon thought she and her people could be more surviving Satedans. Ronon supposed it was possible, from what Solan told him a year ago. Ronon tracked Solan down again, but his longtime friend didn't have any idea. Though, Solan had heard stories of a group of survivors who hunted the Wraith. Today, Ronon was sure that at least she wasn't one of his people, but truthfully with Micheal's return to Atlantis, and the threat of attack on earth, Ronon hadn't thought of her or her friends or who they were for some time.

Ronon hung back, watching as she stopped to buy food a short distance away.

**—–—**

Evie handed an older woman with kind eyes and a thick grey braid, a coin for the meat pie, and smiled politely. She turned, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye again. She had noticed him a few moments ago after she packed the bundle she bought for Amara in her bag. Evie made her way to one of the large trestle tables, set out in one corner of the square as a place for people to rest. She took a seat in an empty spot at the end of one with a wall directly behind her. She sat her pie down, picking at it but was no longer quite so hungry. Sitting could be seen as a bold move, Evie knew. However, if he were genuinely following her, he would have to stay where he could see her. And if not, he would move on. Evie also realized the man could do just that to throw her off, but she would rather make him then let him trail her.

Every instinct Evie possessed told her the mountain of a man was following her, though; that he recognized her just as she had known him. And Evie's gut instincts were seldom wrong. She wasn't so self-centered as to think she stuck out in a crowd, but he did. In truth, Evie's curiosity about him and his companions always led to questions about what part he played. He had the look of a scavenger or a mercenary, neither of which cast him in a flattering light in her opinion. The best she could figure was he was a scout of some sort. It was his sheer size and bearing, and with an unkempt wildness about him, that made him stand out when others would blend in.

His companions were not scavengers, however. They had the look of some military. It was obvious they were not Genii, either. That begged the question of who they were. Jax had posed the same question after they returned to camp. Her brother had suggested that maybe they were the ones rumored to be occupying a city built by the ancestors and capable of using its technology.

Ragnar hadn't been nearly as curious as she was, however. Or so he appeared but one never really knew what her brother was thinking. He liked it that way.

The pie truly wasn't very good, which chased away what little hunger Evie still felt. Her watcher hadn't really moved on, either. He stopped beside the blacksmith's standstill some distance away and had yet to move further.

Evie pulled a thick chunk of crust from her pie, popping it into her mouth as if everything was as it should be. She ate a few more bites of her food and waited to see if he would move on. For half a second, Evie thought about pulling her gauntlet from her bag but knew that if she did, it would alert him to her awareness of his presence. Plus, she would never use it where there were innocent people present.

He had the look of a hunter, a tracker, a man capable of running his prey to the ground, the type that didn't just do things. The last thought sent a trickle of apprehension slithering along her spine.

Evie stood and tossed her pie in the barrel set out for waste and made her way toward another stall. She lingered for some time as she seemingly sifted through the array of handmade goods.

**—**

Evie stepped into the alley, racing the short distance to the small warehouse. She slipped into the empty machine yard, then inside the building. She knew this place and area of the town well. Jax's cousin, Marcel, owned the building. Marcel didn't live on Cambria, but he kept the warehouse in the event Jax or Ragnar needed it. It was empty now, but they used it to store supplies on occasion. Evie headed for the loft and quickly climbed up, double-checking her exit route, even as she slipped her bag from her shoulder. She pulled her gauntlet out and promptly put it on, flexing her hand as she fastened it. Both ends of the loft had large openings, one above the main yard and one at the back that opened over the attached building. She threw her bag up onto some boards spanning the rafters over her head, watching the opening to the machine yard for him. Evie squatted down just as he came into view, sliding his head cautiously around the corner like the hunter, she had no doubt he was. He moved back out of sight. It had become evident that while he followed her, he had no desire to engage her a while ago. And Evie was done with the games.

"Why don't we quit the games, and you tell me who you are and why you're following me?" Evie called, staying hidden.

She could still run; she should run. Her brother would advise her never to engage a potential opponent; she did not have to. Especially when she was alone or when the likely opponent was the size of the man below. One hand settled on the pistol strapped to her thigh, but she didn't draw it. In truth, just having put her gauntlet back on made her feel less vulnerable, though she wouldn't use it unless she had to. And she'd rather know what he wanted and end the absurd pretense, that she wasn't aware of him and he didn't realize she knew.

Evie saw a slight movement at the end of the alley, then he spoke. "Friends of mine would like to meet you." He called in a deep rough voice.

"Why's that?" she asked, not denying or confirming she remembered any of them.

Ronon was not a negotiator. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to her or what Sheppard would want him to say. "They think you have something in common."

"l can't imagine what."

Ronons attention slid over her surroundings again. The two-story stone warehouse sat in the middle of an open yard. A ten-foot-tall stone fence ran along the back of the yard until it connected with buildings on either side. Some might think she had hemmed herself in, but Ronon knew better. She had chosen this place for precisely the opposite reason.

Ronon could only assume, she had led him here and took to the second floor to give herself the advantage of the high ground, while she decided if he was friend or foe. If she was speaking to him, she recognized him as well. At least, that was the only reason he could think of that she would talk to him, and not just vanish.

"I am sure they can explain."

Ronon peeked around the corner again; he could still see a small glimpse of her in the loft window. He could try to get Sheppard on his comm again, but he and Teyla were still in the middle of negotiating a trade agreement with the Cambrian government. Beckett was here as well, but he was needed with the others also.

"I have plenty of friends, so you can stop following me now."

"They're good friends to have."

She remained silent for a moment this time. "I think you have me confused with someone else, so feel free to go about your business. As I said, I'm not interested."

Again, Ronon had no idea what he was supposed to say. He couldn't let her go but if he told her, sorry, can't do that, she'd run. Ronon also realized she was going to bolt now no matter what he said or did.

As if on cue, there was a swirl of movement as she stood and ran from the window as she decided for him.

"She's running," Ronon said into his mic, already moving toward the building.

Ronon heard her hit the next roof just as he ran around the end of the building. She was already hurrying down the ridgepole, leaving him to follow. When she reached the end of the building, she jumped over the space, separating it from the fence then dropped from sight.

Ronon climbed the stone wall, jumping down to the road on the other side with a thump. She was sprinting between two rows of buildings across from where he landed.

"Where are you?" Sheppard's voice questioned in his ear.

"North end of the town, near the river."

"Stay with her."

**Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. The next one would be by the end of the week! **


	3. The Seminal

**A/N: Hey, all. Sorry, this wasn't out much sooner like I had planned. What can I say besides life and making sure I had this chapter right? I've been a little anxious about one. Thanks for all the follows and reviews! They make my day! Also, this chapter start exactly where the previous left off! **

**Disclaimer: I own only my ocs and their stories.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Seminal Wind**

**—-—**

* * *

Evie realized before her feet hit the dirt that she had made an error. She scanned her surroundings for the right building. Preferably one without an overly easy climb to the top. She should have known better. It was more than apparent he would quickly outpace her. She should have headed for the rooftops at the warehouse.

Most of these houses were two stories with unpainted exteriors except for their brightly colored trim. They had steeply pitched rooftops with wooden shingles, and the short ends of beams that stuck out a foot past the eves. The streets were narrow; the occasional porch dotted the fronts of the homes. Brightly colored linen streamers and flags hung between houses, in honor of this festive day.

Wooden shingles were definitely not one of Evie's preferred rooftop terrains to navigate, though as long as you kept moving, you were usually okay. The shingles tended to slide under your feet. She hoped that if they were a challenge for her, they would be more of one for her hulking pursuer or, at the very least, slow him down. She only needed to lose him long enough to vanish.

Evie glanced over her shoulder; he was maybe ten yards away and gaining. That was already much closer than she liked, and that was with her having a good minute head start. He darted around an older man, jumping over the cart the man pushed. She pushed herself harder. Her booted feet pounded the gravel beneath them, calf muscles burning as she sprinted down the narrow roads between the rows of humble wooden houses. Evie bolted down a narrow opening between two buildings, her dark braids slapping against her back. A wagon sat beside one wall. Evie climbed up quickly, jumping up onto the seat. Her eyes were already on one of the beams sticking out from the eves of the house. She leaped up, grabbing the lowest one. The toes of her boots dug into the rough wooden wall. Evie scrambled upward, wrapping one arm over the shaft, and pulled herself up onto the roof.

Evie quickly gained her footing, thankful it hadn't rained lately to make the shingles anymore treacherous. She slid slightly as a shingle under her booted foot shifted with her first step. It slipped from under her foot and down the slope of the roof with her next step — Evie ran diagonally toward the flat ridge pole in the center of the roof.

—–—

Ronon had already expected she was making for the rooftops when she disappeared from sight. It was the most logical thing for her to do in this situation. There was no way she could outrun him on foot. This section of town seemed nearly deserted at present. The inhabitants were most likely at the festival. She would have to lead him back toward the crowds or give herself another advantage. He rounded the corner just in time to see a flash of red trim on the tail of her coat as she vanished above.

Without missing a stride, Ronon hurried to the wagon, climbed onto the seat, then jumped up, catching the lowest beam with both hands and swung his legs up onto the rooftop. She was already nearly to the end of the building as he gained his footing, the roof's wooden tiles shifting as he did so. Without looking back to see if he followed, she ran faster, jumping to the ridge pole of the next roof.

She glanced back at him then, loose strands of her hair slipping across her face. She sped up. Ronon ran down the length of the ridge pole, leaping over the gap just as she had done.

She ran diagonally down the next roof, shingles falling way under her feet, and jumped the small gap between buildings. She was doing what he expected, leading him back to where there were more people. Ronon followed her path. She scrambled up the next roof, dropping from sight over its crest, Ronon continuing his pursuit of her.

Always the hunter, Ronon knew he could keep chasing her over the terrain of her choice, or he could turn the tables. The idea of setting his gun to stun and shooting her was appealing, but he knew Sheppard would be less than impressed. On the other side of this building, it connected to a low stone stable building with blue clay tile on the roof. On one side, there was a stable yard with a hay wagon sitting by the wall.

Ronon followed her down onto the next roof, scooping up one of the tiles. He threw it at her feet and ran faster to catch her. The tile hit her heels and sent her stumbling forward. He dove, grabbing her around the waist, as she tried to correct her balance and sent them both tumbling into the wagon below in a shower of debris. She landed on top, knocking the air out of him. She drove her elbow into his abdomen with all her weight as she rolled from the wagon in a whirl of braids.

"A little help," Ronon wheezed into his com, and he jumped from the wagon himself.

She was already several yards away, sprinting through the small crowd gathered watching them. Ronon's quarry rushed down an alley. Ronon's attention went to the nearby rooftops. He took one step, and instinct told him that wasn't what she was up to, however. The buildings in this area were stone with tile roofs. He wasn't so sure he wanted to try navigating those ones, but his gut instinct said that wasn't what she was doing.

Skidding to a halt, he changed directions, sprinting down the nearest narrow street. He'd been in this section of the town before. His quarry wasn't headed for the rooftops; she just wanted him to think she was. There was a passageway that connected this alley and the next. She thought he would follow her, and if she was quick enough, she could circle back around or reach the river crossing not far ahead, and be gone before he realized.

She ran out the end of the passageway just as he reached it. Ronon grabbed her from behind, and shoved her into a deep alcove in the buildings across from the passageway. They stumbled forward, she lifted her legs, bracing her feet against the wall and pushed with all her strength. Still holding onto her, Ronon stumbled backward. The rough bricks of the opposite wall dug into his back and bare shoulders as he slammed into it, causing his arms to open. Before Ronon realized what she was doing, she shifted her weight to her hip, plowing her elbow painfully into his side. She pulled away, pivoting as she spun around to kick him, but Ronon blocked her leg. She fell to the ground, and rolled smoothly back to her feet a short distance away. Her eyes darted past him again.

He knew what she was going to do the second she started moving; she dove left for the stack of crates sitting against the wall. Ronon grabbed the back of her coat, yanking her backward. The soft fabric in his hand gave way. She stumbled, falling when she hit the ground. She gained her footing quickly, ready to fight again. Ronon rushed her, driving her backward into the wall, and pressed his forearm into her windpipe. Her green eyes widened slightly. He didn't want to hurt her, but if the others didn't hurry up, he wasn't so sure he would be able to get around it. She caught him on the side chin with the heel of her right hand, shoving his head back. Pain tore through his face as he bit his lip under the surprising force of her blow. At the same time, she hit the arm he had her braced with, throwing his balance off further. She used the momentum, and grabbed hold of his shoulders. Ronon brought his leg up, to block the knee headed for his groin.

She spun away from him, and Ronon grabbed her forearm, yanking her back into his chest. His strong hold wrapped around her small frame, immobilizing both of her arms this time. He forced her to bend over, despite the pain that radiated along his side. He hissed a sharp breath but remembered to keep her head out the range of his still sore jaw. He reached up, and gingerly touched his bottom lip with one hand, unsurprised to see blood on his fingers when he pulled his hand back. He held her there as she struggled against him, using her smaller size against her this time. His arm just under her ribs coiled around her, pulling inward and up. She struggled harder, for a moment, then started gasping. Again he had the thought this would all be so much easier if he could just knock her out, but he knew Sheppard wouldn't like that either.

The long end of one of her braids that had begun to work itself free slid across his bare arm; he caught the smell of citrus again, only this time stronger. He had smelled it the first time as they tumbled into the wagon. It was an odd moment to realize that was most likely the scented soap she used.

Ronon loosened his pressure on her middle slightly, letting her draw a full breath. She made a sound suspiciously like a growl this time, driving her head back against his chest as she tried to arch against his hold.

"Stop," Ronon warned, his voice deathly calm.

She redoubled her fight, managing to throw him off balance just enough. She lifted her feet and thrust all her weight back down toward the ground, yanking one of her arms free, and brought her elbow up.

Ronon grabbed her arm before she could make contact with his head. He yanked it across her chest, holding it pinned to her shoulder, and tightened his hold around her again.

"Let me go!" she ordered, throwing all of her weight toward the ground again. She kicked wildly, catching him in the shin. Nearly at the end of his patience, Ronon gripped her wrist harder, bending it back ever so slightly. Her small frame stiffened. She made a frustrated noise, but she didn't stop struggling. He squeezed harder.

"Are you going to run?" he rumbled.

_Says the predator to the prey_, Evie said to herself. She spat. "What do you think?" she asked sarcastically. She knew if he loosened his grip on her for one second, she was going for her gun despite them being in a populated area.

—–—

"Ronon, is that any way to treat our new friend?" John Sheppard's voice interjected. The older man finished his approach, resting one arm on top of his gun. He watched as Ronon dropped his arms and stepped away.

"She'll think we're barbarians," he added, before moving closer. "I'm Colonel John Sheppard," John began offering the brunette his hand as he held her wary green eyes. When she didn't take it, he inclined his head towards Teyla. "This is Teyla Emmagan, Carson Beckett," John's eyes moved past her shoulder to Ronon, "and I believe you've already met Ronon Dex."

Evie filed the word Colonel in the back of her brain. She assumed it was a military rank, and her original instinct was right. They were some sort of military unit.

"Why would I listen to anything you have to say after your…" Evie's words trailed off, and she shot Ronon a look. "After your brute, here, just accosted me?"

John raised his hand. "A regrettable start," he started, nodding his head thoughtfully as he continued. "I was busy and told Ronon to follow you. He sometimes performs his orders with zeal," John added, throwing Ronon right under the proverbial bus. Ronon lifted his brows and folded his arms over his chest.

"Are you going to force me to stay here?" she asked.

"You're free to go at any time," John assured her.

"In that case, I have places to be," Evie said, taking a step.

John put his hand up again. "Just hear us out," he went on without giving her a chance to speak. "I believe our paths crossed a few months ago."

Her gaze drifted suspiciously down his face, but in the end, she nodded. "What does that have to do with anything? I've crossed paths with many."

"Well," John began, his attention moving over to the others. "I believe we can help each other."

"Really." She stated flatly

"Yeah," John reassured, almost enthusiastically with a nod of his head. "I do."

"Why's that?" she questioned, though John was confident she knew why he said it.

"I've seen you guys in action. Why don't we go back to the village and discuss it?"

Still uncertain, Evie watched him closely for a moment. "How do you even know I'm one of the people you're looking for?"

"I never forget a face," he said.

—–—

The old tavern was full to the seams for the noonday meal; somehow, they still managed to find this empty table. Evie had worked her remaining braid loose, as they made their way to the tavern, gathering the dense mass in one single braid that hung loosely over her shoulder. Her torn coat lay on the bench beside her, leaving her in her long-sleeved white shirt and sleeveless bodice. Her gauntlet was still secured around her wrist and lower arm. Evie doubted she would ever remove it again after today.

Evie accepted the flagon of ale from the young blond girl and took a drink. She hoped the brew would dull some of the ache throbbing in her side and arm. The wrist he had twisted was already bruising, and would need salve and wrapping. Evie could only assume there were matching bruises popping up all over her body.

"There are others much more capable with far more resources than my people." She paused, holding the one called John's gaze across the rough-hewn table, for a moment before she went on. "The Genii, for instance."

The big one snorted into his food at the end of the table. Evie met his gaze; his eyes burned with what she could only describe as amusement. The look irritated her at first. Then a trickle of satisfaction wove through her when she saw the swelling in his bottom lip and the bruise forming under the stubble on his jawline.

"Let's just say the Genii and my people don't play well together," John stated, drawing her attention from her attacker.

There was a slight upward twitch of her lips at his choice of words. Few did 'play' well with the Genii.

"The only game the Genii play is for their own benefit," he added.

"So you have met them," Evie said. "Where are your people from?" she asked next, tilting her chin toward the weapon he had slung over his chest. "I've never seen weapons like that anywhere in this galaxy before."

"We come from a long way away."

Evie said nothing to his evasive reply. Though she was fairly sure, she knew who they were without getting an answer.

"Same could be said for your weapon," John countered.

Evie smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. There was nothing particularly special about her gauntlet besides she had later learned the trader had thought it didn't work. "You know, stories are beginning to abound in the galaxy about a people's using the technology of the Ancestors and living in their city."

"No kidding," he said with a nod. "Well, our ancestors did invent this technology, but I've seen weapons that work similarly everywhere."

Everything started somewhere, but it wasn't his weapon that made Evie truly curious. "Your man there." She inclined her head towards the one with the strange accent, kind eyes, and a friendly smile.

"Carson," the doctor supplied in an approachable voice.

"Carson. What of the device he was using earlier." Whatever his reply would be, it was unimportant to Evie. "What do you say we get to the point? You said you think your people and mine can help each other."

Sheppard nodded. "Yes. I've seen your people in action. You're resourceful and organized; I think we could work well together." When she made no ready reply, he added, "It seems we have both made it our business to fight the Wraith. I think we both know we are fighting an uphill battle. Together we could do more."

Evie was unfamiliar with the term but could guess what the man meant, and she knew he was right. That was the problem. More and more Wraith were awakening. "Let us say, I agree," she started carefully. "You speak as if you know things about us?"

"We've been keeping an eye out for you guys."

She gave him a confused look uncertain what he meant this time, and he rephrased his words.

"We have been hoping to see you and your companions. Up until today, you haven't been easy to find."

Evie's gaze fixated on the big guy again. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table as he popped a piece of crusty bread in his mouth. Still curious, still watchful.

"What exactly are these resources you offer?" Evie asked, diverting her attention back to the others.

"Well, that depends on if we work together. We have medicine, supplies, and other valuable assets. We've successfully fought and killed some of the Wraith."

If they were who she thought they could be, they had done far more than 'kill some of the Wraith.'

"I see." Evie watched him closely, holding his hazel eyes with her green. Something about the man told her she could trust him, but it never paid to be rash. "Is that all?"

She and her brother had heard scattered tales of those working with the Wraith a few times now.

"Well, let's get into that after we decide if we can help each other."

Evie nodded thoughtfully. He was right; they needed allies, but ultimately, Ragnar and the others had to weigh in on this decision. It was not hers alone. She was not entirely sure what her brother would think. "You can speak for your people?"

"Yes, I can. Can you?"

"Tell me, why should I trust you?"

"What do you have to lose?"

Evie held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I can deliver your message."

**—–—**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. A Beginning

**A/N: Hey all, I owe you all a huge apology for how long this update has taken. To any of you still reading this, I hope you enjoy it, and I will try to update again much sooner!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my oc.**

**xXx**

**Chapter Four**

**A Beginning**

* * *

**The Next Day**

Atlantis was more than what Evie expected.

Not that she had known exactly what to expect.

She'd seen the work of the Ancestors in Ruins in some of the places she'd found herself since the Wraith destroyed Nahear. They were always curious and stunning and left you in little doubt of their builder's genius. Some were useful; others were not. But none were quite like this.

The first thing she saw as she stepped through the Ancestral Ring other than their greeting party was a wide set of colored glass windows.

Evie glanced at the others, nodding at Doctor Beckett and Teyla. She reached up, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her attention swept the room before it came back to the window.

Each geometric shape, no matter its size, was framed in metal and placed in a flow of beautiful symmetry and muted natural tones. At this moment, rays of sunlight slipped their long fingers through the glass, making it more beautiful.

The dark, amber-colored floor, speckled with gold, stretched out to the opposite side of the room. There it came to the set of steps that led to the landing that the window adorned. The stairs forked. To the right were a catwalk and a glassed room. To the left, she could see people sitting at work stations and a balcony that ran the room's length.

Evie had seen colored glass windows before. She had attended many lectures at The Clarion Institute of Medical Disciplines, some even given by her father. Though the patterns weren't so geometric, colored glass windows adorned nearly every hall and room at the institute. The building's central lecture hall's domed ceiling was made almost entirely of colored glass.

If her father were here today, he would be hopeful. Maybe for the first time in many years, just as Jonas was. Jonas who had said "If these people are who they claim to be, they are our best hope." Evie saw that as did she believe Ragnar.

Evie turned her attention back to her companions. She nodded to Teyla and Doctor Beckett again. Arms behind her back, she clasped her left forearm just above the binding on her bruised wrist with her right hand. The heat of her hand warmed the soft, supple brown leather under it. She had left her gauntlet behind, per Ragnar's request, along with her pistol and bow. He said it was a show of good faith. None of them were armed. Evie had her own show of good faith tucked into one of the deep pockets of her coat. The doctor with the pleasant accent had expressed interest in the healing plants and herbs of the galaxy, so Evie had brought him one of her field journals.

Recent events left her feeling vulnerable, as did the destruction of her jacket. The brown leather one she wore was cut much the same, with a wide high collar and buttoned lapels and a hood. It was warmer by far, but the other was gifted to her by her father when she joined the guild.

She turned her attention back to Ragnar just as he spoke, "My sister, Evie."

Her attention shifted to the tall, slender woman with dark hair standing before her.

Arms still folded behind her back, Evie nodded.

"Doctor Elizabeth Weir," the brunette said, offering her hand in the same manner Colonel Sheppard did yesterday, a friendly smile on her lips.

"It's nice to meet you," Elizabeth said as she took her hand. There was no mistaking this particular young woman with long dark braids, even without knowing her name. John had mentioned the scar on her face when he had told Elizabeth about the girl who'd managed to give Ronon a split lip. John had found the idea more than a little amusing.

"Thank you," the girl said, shaking her hand awkwardly.

The sister was the antithesis of the brother in nearly every way. Her hair was dark, his that you could see was a dirty blond, his beard was shades darker. He had piercing blue eyes, and hers were a pale green. She was openly curious, while he had a guarded look about him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the other woman said as she dropped Evie's hand. Her gaze traveled past Evie to the window behind them.

Evie nodded, looking over her shoulder. "Yes."

Elizabeth's attention returned to the others. "This is Colonel Caldwell," she began, speaking to everyone again. She indicated the tall bald man to her right. He didn't precisely look mean, but there was something stiff and unyielding in his bearing.

"Doctor Rodney MacKay," she said of the shorter man standing beside him, "he is Atlantis' head scientist, and I believe you all remember Teyla Emmagan and Doctor Beckett."

Ragnar nodded, "This is Jonas, our doctor. And my second-in-command, Jax."

The doctor took both of their hands just as she had Evie's, smiling politely at both.

"Now, If you would all come with me?" Doctor Weir said. She lifted her arm in a gesture toward the steps.

Doctor Weir fell into step beside Ragnar, arms behind her back. The others followed suit, heading for the steps that led to the window. Evie turned her attention to their doctor. "Doctor Beckett," she said, pulling the journal from her pocket, she fell into step beside him.

"Yes," he said, in that pleasant way of his.

"I brought this for you," she said, handing him the medium-sized leather-bound journal in her hand. She went on as he opened the book, "I have others." He had been interested in seeing these yesterday. "This one has a bit of everything," she said, looking down at the page he had opened. She generally always kept a journal with her, so she could write down the planets and such where she found specimens. She leaned closer. "This is the Peddler's Caps; we use it to treat rapid heartbeat and other heart defects; it strengthens the cardiovascular muscles."

"You drew these?" he asked.

Evie looked up from the page and met his blue eyes. "Yes."

"They are really very good, " he said, looking down again. "This is fascinating, " he began next, "we have an identical genus of the plant on Earth, called Fox Glove. We use it to treat arrhythmias and other forms of heart disease as well."

"I would be happy to help you translate it if you wish," she offered just as they stepped into another room.

"That would be lovely, thank you," he said, smiling at her.

Evie smiled in return, curious over why he would use a word like lovely at such a time. A long oval-shaped table sat in the middle of the space. On each end of the table, a pitcher of water sat on a tray, cups stacked upside down beside them.

Doctor Weir lifted her arm. "Please," she said, gesturing to the seats on the side of the table closest to them. "Take a seat."

Evie looked about as she made her way to a seat, for the first time really noticing the Satedans absence.

**XxX**

"I think there is much to be gained from us working together," Colonel John Sheppard said.

Evie shifted in her chair, her attention moving to Ragnar.

Doctor Weir, sat across the table from her and Ragnar. She had a pleasant smile, but she also had a sharpness in her hazel green gaze that demanded respect. Evie had no idea she was every bit as clever as her brother.

At the moment, they were discussing their teams working together. They had been talking for some time already.

"I agree," Ragnar said with a nod. His powder blue eyes danced with a light that, to some, would be unnerving. Colonel Sheppard didn't seem to notice.

The older balding man, with a dark blue sweater and glasses on, they called Colonel Caldwell sat beside Doctor Weir. He spoke, "Colonel Sheppard, said you have a list of planets with known Wraith outposts?" The man asked.

He commanded a battle-ready ship called the Daedalus. They said it was in orbit around the planet as they spoke. Most of the only war capable ships Evie had ever seen were those of the Wraith. The Travelers had ships and some battle-ready, but they had very little interest in doing more than staying alive. In fact, Luke was once a Traveler. He would typically be here with them as would Siri. The latter being the only of Nahear's original governing council left, but they were preparing the people to break camp tomorrow. Siri had been their Officer of Education.

"Yes," her brother offered, turning his attention toward Jax. "Jax has them."

"Could we see them?" The colonel asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I'm sure he would be happy to write them down for you."

The colonel looked even more annoyed; he opened his mouth as if to speak, but before he could, Doctor Weir spoke: "That will be fine." she said, her voice calm.

Evie watched the other woman closely for a moment. The edge of her lips lifted a fraction upward.

Yesterday, the Satedan had been obviously annoyed when Ragnar only mentioned the intel on Wraith bases and activity. He had never said he was a Satedan, Evie only assumed. The tattoo on his neck meant he was most likely one of the few surviving ones. The military forces of Sateda had traditionally always had such marks. Her world had traded frequently with Sateda before the Wraith destroyed it. Almost a year later, the Wraith had come for them as well. Evie couldn't imagine what it would be like going through what she had gone through and not having Ragnar. While she felt for what he had been through, she had no like for the man himself.

Still, for some reason, him not being here made her antsy. Evie reached up, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, then ran her hand down one thick braid and pulled it over her shoulder. She unconsciously played with the long end that hung to the bottom of her rib cage, as she did on occasion.

Doctor Rodney McKay had already shown he thought he was the superior intellect in the room. They brought little in the way of technologies that were of interest to the man aside from her gauntlet. He had expressed interest in studying it, but it was most apparent he would prefer to be elsewhere. He had a philodoxical nature, Evie was afraid.

Jax sat to her right, his arms folded over his chest. Ragnar sat on her left. Jonas sat beside him, his grey head tilted slightly, fingers steepled before him as he listened. Jonas had been with Evie and Ragnar since the day the Wraith culled Nahear. He worked with their father. The council had sent Jonas offworld with some of the children they had been able to move from the hospital. Evie had continued to train with Jonas, and the children remained with them. And they were the most significant reason Ragnar took on the mantle of leader.

When Evie returned to camp yesterday covered in newly forming bruises and revealed her tale, Ragnar was angry then curious. Jax was angry. Jax had a way of taking on the role of protector, even though Evie didn't feel she needed one. And he wouldn't be naysaid; he had stayed close to her when they returned to Cambria yesterday.

Her brother had been acting strange since they returned from their initial meeting with Colonel John Sheppard yesterday. Colonel Sheppard had extended the invitation to Atlantis to meet the woman in charge of the expedition.

Right now, Ragnar was what occupied Evie's attention. He was quieter than usual yesterday, and there was a peculiar light in his eyes. The first was a feat hard to achieve; Ragnar was often rather taciturn and far more self-contained than others. He was a born tactician and was possessed of a rational, observant nature and generally at least a step ahead of most. Evie had learned long ago to be wary of her brother's sidelong looks. From what she had seen of Doctor Elizabeth Weir in the short time they'd been in the Ancients city, the woman was a match for her brother. A fact which Evie knew her brother found entertaining.

At this moment, however, Evie had the strangest feeling the person he was a step ahead of wasn't their new allies, but she herself.

Still, she wasn't sure how and that made the feeling even more unnerving.

She also knew better than to spend too much time thinking about it. Ragnar would only reveal what he planned when it suited him.

Evie glanced down at the wrap covering her wrist; the fresh minty smell of starflower and other healing herbs clung to her. Despite his apparent curiosity about these people, he had been less than pleased when he found her binding her wrist yesterday. She had seen right then, that her brother wasn't going to let her go her own way for some time if he could stop it. He sometimes forgot that she was an adult and had free will. She also knew his worry - and need to know where she was - was born of a promise made to their father as the world crumbled around them. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she shoved the memory away.

Movement in the open panel they'd all entered through caught her eye, and Evie looked over just as he stepped into the room. Her spine stiffened, as she watched him approach Colonel Sheppard. The other man looked over his shoulder, the Satedan squatted down, and they shared a few sentences. Instead of finding a seat, he stood and leaned his impressive frame against the wall, in a relaxed manner. He folded his bare arms over his broad chest and tucked his chin in as he listened contently. The ease in his way vexed her further.

It was just as Evie expected; varying degrees of ugly bruises dotted her torso and upper body. Her shins had several as well. It almost hurt to breathe, and her ribs ached from his rough handling as well. She didn't believe he had broken any, at least. Amara had helped Evie bind them with bandages soaked in the same salve covering her wrist. They picked this moment to throb, making Evie even angrier. There was a scab on his lip, but the mark on his jaw had vanished already. His hazel gaze shifted to her. Evie lifted her chin and set her jaw before she looked away dismissively.

**xXx**

Ronon studied the brunette. You didn't have to be able to read minds to see the contempt in her green eyes, not that he could blame her. The bruise on his jawline was already fading, but he didn't bruise easily. She wasn't so lucky; a dark one marred her cheek along the back on her jawline. He also did not doubt if he unwrapped the binding on her wrist. The one he could see peeking out from her coat sleeve; he'd find dark lines that resembled the width and length of his fingers. She'd fought him hard and with some skill. If she didn't have any training, he might not have had to hurt her, but he had had little choice. Ronon had tried to engage her yesterday when she and the others came back, but she had wanted none of it. Judging from her cold demeanor, she wanted none of it today either.

The tall, leanly muscled man with close-cropped dark-hair sitting beside her had been with her when she returned yesterday as well. He had hovered close to her side, in a proprietary manner. If her body language hadn't been entirely neutral, Ronon would have assumed they were a couple. Ronon didn't spare him a glance at the moment, though he knew the other man was looking at him.

She shifted in her chair, fidgeting with the end of the braid hanging over her shoulder. Ronon watched for a moment more, wondering again how she had gotten the knife scar that started just above her right eyebrow and slashed downward across her cheek before he returned his attention to the others.

He was late to the meeting this morning because Sheppard had sent him to find Solan. Ronon's long time friend had said he would see what he could find out about their new allies when they initially talked to him about them. Solan was offworld when Ronon got there, so he had waited through the night. Sheppard wanted Ronon to see if Solan had gained any more intel on them. A couple of months had passed since Ronon had last talked to his friend. Rumors said they had a network of bases on destroyed planets, and they moved around a lot. There were many of them, but they weren't all warriors and fighters. The brother was or had been Nahearen military. After the fall of their homeworld, Ragnar took on the role of leader and protector. Solan had said nothing about the sister, but still, something compelled Ronon to ask, "the sister?"

His friend had known nothing specific about her.

"Now," Doctor Weir began, pulling Ronon's thoughts back to the present. She pushed her chair back. "Doctor Becket would be happy to give Jonas and your sister a tour of the infirmary and the botany lab."

Ronon slid into Carson's chair after the other man. Sheppard wanted him here while they discussed their teams working together.

**XxX**

Ragnar's gaze lingered on his sister's dark head, and narrow shoulders as she, and Jonas followed the man away. He had expected she would be curious about their medical facilities and practices. It actually made him feel better about his decision. He wasn't one to dwell on the past or things he couldn't change, but in another time and place, she would have been a surgeon by now. Here she could continue to learn and study if she chose.

"It is traditional amongst my people to have an emissary live among our allies," Ragnar began, turning his attention back to the others still present at the table. He paused and held Doctor Weir's gaze. "Someone educated and usually from a respected family, to act as a liaison between our peoples and share knowledge."

Hands clasped together on the table. Elizabeth nodded as she said, "we as well." Though they didn't necessarily do that here at Atlantis a lot, "What did you have in mind?"

"I do not have a traditional emissary, but my sister was my father's apprentice and formally educated," Ragnar began. "She studied medicine before the Wraith culled our planet and some since. We can do without her, but not without Jonas. As you already know, she has much knowledge of the medicinal herbs and plants of this galaxy; your Doctor expressed interest in."

Elizabeth nodded again. She wasn't opposed to the suggestion. Carson had been emphatic about how useful this information could be, and Elizabeth realized that herself. Rodney would also like to study her weapon.

"In addition to the supplies we have already spoken of, I believe the medical knowledge she could learn from your own people would be invaluable." And it would. Ragnar would have seen that even if Jonas hadn't pointed as much out, yesterday. Having access to the knowledge of the ancestor was another thing to be considered.

John met her gaze briefly. "How does your sister feel about this idea?" Sheppard asked before Elizabeth spoke.

The sister fought Ronon like she was fighting for her very life, or so Sheppard had said. Despite the sheer difference in their physical sizes, the girl had gotten in a few good blows of her own. One needed only to see Ronon's split lip to see that.

"She will be fine." He said with all the confidence of a man whose orders people followed.

Something told Elizabeth, the young woman in question might not be happy with this outcome. Elizabeth also suspected that they had gotten where they were and fought the Wraith so successfully because they all followed his orders.

**xXx**

**Later that night**

**xXx**

Evie sat her bowl of stew down on the timeworn table and wiped her hands together and leaned back in her chair. "They have this jiggly blue stuff doctor Beckett called jello." The last word came out more like a question.

"Blue?" Amara questioned.

The camp was still bustling with in preparation for their move tomorrow. That was something Evie hadn't even started yet. Not that she had much to move. She told Doctor Beckett she would send her journals and the books to Atlantis, and once they settled, she would help translate them.

Evie nodded, "yes."

Amara remained quiet for a moment. The firelight from the cooking fire played on her bright red curls, making the color dance. "And you eat it?" She asked incredulously, her brow puckering further in disbelief.

"That's what they told me," Evie said to her sister-in-law, lifting one eyebrow.

Amara looked over at Ragnar. He said nothing, merely shrugged distractedly. Again, Evie noticed that something was off with him. She had seen it yesterday, but she had been more certain since she returned from her tour. Evie ignored the tightening in her stomach, the one that told her he was about to do something she wasn't going to like. And judging by Jax, uncharacteristic absence tonight, he knew what he brother planned. Ragnar looked up, meeting her gaze.

"Did you try it? Amara asked skeptically, pulling Evie's attention back to her.

"No. I tried a food called pizza."

**XxX**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Sorry, there wasn't so much Ronon in this chapter, I will make up for it! **


End file.
